Nine letters tucked snugly in my pocket.
They journeyed through cold mountains, green hills, and rainy plains to meet me.
Given, never taken.
One day, I stumbled and they fell out.
Scattered through colourful valleys.
Windswept through quilted pastures.
Adrift down an icy creek.
I followed, desperate to retrieve my letters.
Until I snatched them back in a concrete hall with inked stamps and wooden stands and angry eyes.
And then I tucked them back safely into my creased fists.
All six consonants and three vowels.
My Current Artist Statement by Beck Metzbower, 2019